(I’ve been working at this particular bookstore for about eight years now as a part-time person just for extra money. I ask my boss in August if there is a chance for me to get off for Christmas, because I’ve been there so long and I’m planning a family holiday in Florida. She tells me as long as I get it in before the end of August that will be fine and I can have it off. Therefore, I put it in as we are talking about it and think nothing of it; she said it would be approved so I’m not worried. I then buy non-refundable tickets to Florida over that week in September, reminding my boss again before I purchase them. She tells me, “Yes, you should have it off.” Then, the first week of November, my time off goes straight to denied; our system is set up that you can’t accept the time off requests until it’s about four weeks out. I come in after my day off to find that it is denied, no explanation. I find my manager that said it would be approved and ask her what’s going on. She basically tells me that I will be scheduled regardless of my time off request because it’s Christmas and I cannot expect that I would be able to take the whole week off.)

Me: “You told me that if I got it in by the end of August, I would be able to have it off. I work all the time and I bought non-refundable tickets to Florida.”

Manager: “I never once approved you taking off that whole time. I told you it was completely up in the air.”

Me: “I bought the tickets in September, and before I bought them I reminded you of this and you said it would be no problem.”

Manager: “Well, we have to have you.”

Me: “I’m going to be out of state.”

Manager: “Well, I guess the best thing is that you call in every day that you are scheduled and let us know because we will be scheduling you.”

Me: “Okay, then.”

(So, basically, because I show up early and take over shifts when others won’t, I’m going to get punished? I was already close to getting out of this job and this is just making it that much easier for me.)

Me: “Hello, what can I help you find?”

Customer: “Brain books.”

Me: “Okay, do you mean like puzzle books or books about the human brain?”

Customer: “Weight loss.”

Me: *a little confused* “Well, that’s two different sections.”

Customer: “No. It’s the same thing. There was nothing about it in the diet section. Your brain is connected to your stomach.”

Me: “Oh. Okay. Well, maybe something in the psychology section.”

(I show her the section.)

Customer: “Why isn’t there a section for brains and weight loss together?”

Me: “Well, that would be a very specific topic and we can’t accommodate that in our store. All our sections are very general.”

Customer: “It’s all one thing. The bigger your stomach, the smaller your brain. I mean, your prefrontal cortex. Did you know that?”

Me: “Um, no, I didn’t. Hope you find what you’re looking for.”

(This takes place during a transaction while I am either searching for a customer card or signing them up for a new one. There are two young ladies at the till.)

Me: “Thank you! What phone number will that be under?”

([Customer #1] looks very offended, glares at me, and speaks as if I was being deliberately stupid, with an implied “DUH?” at the end.)

Customer #1: “Umm, my CELL PHONE?”

(Stunned, I simply look at her for a few seconds, and when no number is stated, I look at her companion. [Customer #2] looks horribly embarrassed and steps forward.)

Customer #2: “Her number is [number].”

([Customer #1] looks at her companion but seems confused as to why the number is being said, and I complete the transaction as politely as I can while the first customer continues to glare at me.)

Me: “Have a nice day.”

Customer #2: “Sorry about that. You, too.”

Customer #1: “…?”

(The first customer seemed shocked by her friend’s statement as they walked away. To this day, I have no idea how I was supposed to know her phone number, or how she failed to clue in that I wouldn’t when her friend stepped in.)

(An elderly woman comes in off the street and approaches me.)

Customer: “Hello. I was hoping for some advice.”

Me: “Certainly. Are you looking for a gift or something for yourself?”

Customer: “Myself. I recently sold my car and I need to know if I’ve completed all the right paperwork.”

Me: “I see. Well, unfortunately, we don’t have any legal texts in stock covering car ownership—”

Customer: *interrupts* “Oh, no. You misunderstand me. I don’t want a book; I just want advice about my sold car.”

Me: “From me?”

Customer: “Yes.”

Me: “In a bookshop?”

Customer: “Yes.”

(I am perplexed, but I play along.)

Me: “Well, did you have insurance on this car you sold?”

Customer: “Yes, I do!”

Me: “You should probably contact the insurance company and cancel it, then; no point paying insurance on a car you no longer own, right? And while you’re there, I would ask them for advice, as they deal with cars all the time and would know more about it.”

Customer: “Thank you! You’ve been so helpful! I’ll go to my insurance company right away! I love bookshops! Everyone is so helpful.”

(She leaves, very happy. A regular turns to me:)

Regular: “Maybe it’s because we read what we have to do about something before we do it.”

(I’m at my college bookstore.)

Me: “Do you have the book The Many Masks of Modern Art?”

Clerk #1: “I don’t think we have that title.”

Me: “Are you sure? My professor assigned it and said the bookstore would have it.”

Clerk #1: “I’m not seeing it.” *calls a second clerk over* “Can you find this title?”

Clerk #2: “I don’t see it. Are you sure that’s the exact title?”

Me: “I think so.”

(This is before cell phones, so I can’t look it up.)

Me: “The Many Masks of Modern Art.”

Clerk #2: “Wait a minute… Yes, here it is.”

(It turns out the first clerk had typed in “The Mini Masks of Modern Art.” I guess she thought we were studying tiny masks.)